


lucky i'm in love with my best friend

by delicatecherry



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, I'm not sorry, M/M, oikawa's pov, this is basically 4k of iwaoi fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 08:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17784224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatecherry/pseuds/delicatecherry
Summary: three times oikawa goes to the hospitalortwo times oikawa got hurt + one time he didn't





	lucky i'm in love with my best friend

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first haikyuu fic, and i had a lot of fun writing it. i hope you enjoy it! all the beta love goes to [masha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozaikmage) and [chammomilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chammomilla/profile). thank you both for turning this fic into the least embarrassing version of itself. :')
> 
> disclaimers:  
> \- this isn't medically accurate.  
> \- my knowledge of japan/japanese culture is very limited; please forgive any errors you see. i used google as much as i could.  
> \- i haven't read the manga, so anything in this fic comes from the anime, haikyuu wiki, things i saw in other fics/on tumblr, and my own headcanons.
> 
> title from the song lucky - jason mraz ft. colbie caillat.

_i._

Oikawa Tooru is seven years old, and right now, he thinks, _‘It hurts.’_

His second thought is, _‘Iwa-chan is going to_ kill _me’,_ followed quickly by, _‘Where is Iwa-chan, anyway? I need him; I need him; I_ need _him,’_ before his parents find him sprawled on the ground in their yard, underneath the window to his room. He was supposed to go up, not down; the trees here won’t let him look at the summer sky properly, after all.

Tooru mournfully tilts his head up from where he lies on the ground, avoiding looking at his left wrist which rests at an angle that it isn’t quite supposed to. His vision is hazy, and he can’t focus on the stars lighting up the night. He distantly thinks it’s not normal; maybe he needs glasses. No. No, he doesn’t need glasses. He _can’t_. The kids from school don’t need any more reasons to call him names, and more importantly, what if _Iwa-chan_ makes fun of him?

His train of thoughts is interrupted when he registers someone picking him up, one arm on his back and the other underneath his knees. It feels nice, even though his head aches and swims with pain, and his wrist, oh god, his _wrist_. It jostled a bit when he moved, and something warm prickles behind his eyes, then moves to his cheeks, making them feel hot too, until he feels a breeze. It makes everything suddenly cold. They get to the car, and whoever was cradling him lays him down in the backseat gently before getting behind the wheels. It must’ve been his dad, then. Someone else ( _‘Kaasan,’_ he reckons) gets in the passenger seat, turning her head back. Her head moves, and maybe her lips too, but Tooru can’t make out any of it, can’t make out her face, and it freaks him out.

He feels sick. The car is moving, but he has never been one to get motion sickness. He loves sitting in the backseat and looking out the window while his dad runs errands around the town. Tooru grimaces at the nauseous feeling in his stomach and turns his head to throw up, except he doesn’t; he just dry-heaves because it’s 2 a.m. and the last time he ate anything was hours ago. The taste of bile burns his throat.

They finally arrive at their destination, and Tooru is once again picked up. He bites his tongue in order not to scream out when his left hand twists again. A set of automatic doors open, but Tooru can’t see anything; it’s so bright, he is not sure he has ever seen anything like it. Maybe his parents are giving him a late birthday present and letting aliens abduct him, and this place is their planet; no, _star_ , because nothing else could be this bright.

  


Tooru wakes up as quickly as always. Except, when he opens his eyes, he wishes he would die right then and there because it _hurts_. Maybe he is still staying with the aliens. Last night’s events flash before his eyes as he remembers everything. Well, as much as he can, anyway, because he doesn’t remember anything past getting in the hospital. Oh, so that’s where they are. He opens his eyes again, slowly this time, and it’s slightly more bearable this time because he knows to expect the crushing pain. He delightfully realizes that he won’t need glasses; other than the pain from the sun shining from the windows, his vision is fine. His dad is dozing off in a worn-out hospital couch against the walls, snoring with his mouth open. It would be disgusting if Tooru didn’t sleep the same way. Iwa-chan took a picture of him once, and to Tooru’s shame, he was drooling too.

His mom is sitting in a plastic chair next to him holding his right hand. His hand. He turns his head a little and can see his left wrist in a white cast. It doesn’t hurt. Maybe it itches a little, but there isn’t any pain. Tooru almost smiles; now, only if his eyes would stop twinging.

“Hey,” he hears his mom say.

“Hi,” is what he tries to say, but what comes out is little more than a croak. He sounds worse than a frog. His mom lets go of his hand in favor of putting a straw in his mouth. It would be embarrassing, but Tooru is too busy feeling the relief of wetting his parched mouth. He can still taste acid in his throat, but he lets the cool water wash it away, licking his lips when he’s done. “Hi,” he says again, and this time it works.

She takes back his hand, running cool fingers over his palm and his fingers. “How are you feeling, Tooru-chan?”

“Okay. My eyes hurt,” he replies truthfully because if there’s one person who can always tell when he’s lying, it’s his mom. Well, his mom and Iwa-chan.

“That’s alright. Your doctor said it’s normal. You have a concussion from hitting your head.”

Tooru doesn’t know what a concussion is, but he doesn’t ask. There are more important questions that need to be addressed. “When can we go home?” and, “Where is Iwa-chan?”

“They need to run you through some tests to make sure your concussion isn’t serious, and then we can go.” Tooru nods at this and prays that the tests don’t involve them taking his blood. “Hajime-kun called this morning because you were late for whatever you two had planned, and I told him what happened last night. He wanted to visit you here, but I told him we’d probably be home today; he can come and see you if you have to stay longer.”

He nods again but says nothing. He secretly wishes his mother had let Iwa-chan visit today, anyway, but he doesn’t get to dwell more on it because his mother calls a nurse, and they begin the process of running tests. He moves his hands and legs, squeezes whenever they tell him to, as hard as he can because he really wants to pass the tests, moves around his eyes. They put him in a tube and tell him to close his eyes and not to move at all; he pretends he is in an alien spaceship, and the sounds are super-engines, working to teleport the vessel from galaxy to galaxy.

The tests are finally over, and he is told that he can indeed go home today, but maybe he hadn’t done as well as he hoped because he can’t look at any screens for an entire week, and he shouldn’t run around or read either. All of his plans with Iwa-chan have to be postponed.

They finally get in the car and head home. Tooru already feels better because they gave him pain medication, but nothing compares to seeing Iwa-chan sitting in their front door, trying to look murderous but failing, in Tooru’s honest opinion, because the frown on his face is too cute. His parents walk to the house and go inside, not before rubbing Iwa-chan’s head and patting him on the back.

“IWA-CHAN!” Tooru yells as he runs from the car to his friend, waving both his arms up and down as if he is trying to make a snow angel while standing up. He intends to jump up in Iwa-chan’s arms and hug him, but he holds out both his hands in the universal sign for stopping. Tooru does, but not without excessive amounts of pouting even he knows are unnecessary.

“Stupidkawa, you shouldn’t run; you have a concussion,” he mutters, deepening his scowl, and Tooru wonders how he hasn’t gone cross-eyed yet.

Tooru doesn’t ask how he knows what’s wrong with him; he interrogated his mom for information, for sure. He is mildly impressed that Iwa-chan knows what a concussion is, however. “Iwa-chan, are you my mom?”

“I would hit you if you hadn’t been stupid enough to do it for yourself last night! What were you thinking?” he yells.

Tooru pouts, but it doesn’t work on Iwa-chan like it would on most other people. He sighs dramatically before answering, “I just wanted to see the stars, Iwa-chan! Didn’t you see how bright and beautiful they were last night?”

“And you couldn’t do that from your window like a normal person?”

“But I wanted to be closer, so I _obviously_ had to go on the roof.”

Iwa-chan lets out a sharp breath between gritted teeth, looking for all intents and purposes like he is absolutely done with dealing with Tooru’s antics. He mustn’t be though because the next second one of his arms is around Tooru’s back, and the other one is squashing Tooru’s head to his chest. Tooru doesn’t mind at all, wrapping his own arms around Iwa-chan’s waist and holding on as tightly as he can, even though his wrist is in a cast.

“Don’t do that again, idiot.”

“I promise, Iwa-chan.”

And that’s that.

  


_ii._

Oikawa Tooru is sixteen years old, and right now, he thinks, _‘It hurts.’_

His second thought is, _‘Iwa-chan is going to_ kill _me’,_ followed quickly by, _‘Where is Iwa-chan, anyway? I need him; I need him; I_ need _him,’_ before he remembers what happened not even twenty minutes ago.

_“You’re overworking yourself again!” Iwa-chan is yelling, but he sounds more exhausted than Tooru feels._

_“You can go home—” Iwa-chan doesn’t let him finish._

_“This isn’t about me, dumbass! You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep pulling this shit. It isn’t your fault that we lost. Volleyball is a team sport, remember?”_

_Tooru remembers, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “Yes. Yes, we lost. We lost to Shiratorizawa_ again _. It might not be my fault alone, but if I can improve, then the team will improve, so I need to practice my jump serves. You can stay, or you can go home Iwa-chan. Just, please, don’t interrupt my personal practice again.”_

_“Fine, Shittykawa, be that way. See if I care.”_

_Iwa-chan slams the gymnasium doors on the way out, and the sound echoes through Tooru’s bones, making him shiver. He shakes his head, pushing the thoughts of his best friend to the back of his mind, and picks up another ball._

How did this happen again? Oh, yes. He was distracted. He couldn’t focus, and he messed up a landing. How could he allow this to happen? His knee is bent out of shape, and it hurts like hell. Tooru quickly considers his options. There’s no one at school at this hour, so even if he screams his throat sore, no one would come to his rescue. He could wait it out here until morning when the others come for practice, but that would mean twelve hours of sitting with his twisted knee in agony. His phone is in his bag in the clubroom, but going to the clubroom means getting out of the gym and climbing down the three steps separating it from the ground, then walking the few feet to the clubroom. It would take less than a minute if he weren’t hurt, but Tooru isn’t confident he can make it in this state.

He considers walking, but even the thought of putting weight on his knee has him grimacing in pain. He settles for crawling the distance keeping him from his phone even though it means dragging his foot and possibly making his knee hurt even more than it already does. He dully registers the teardrops making their way down his face, and tries to remember not to touch his irritated eyes. He doesn’t want to disturb his contact lenses.

Tooru takes a deep breath and braces himself before using his hands to crawl backward. It hurts. Tooru takes another deep breath.

It’s a slow process, but the rinse-and-repeat quality of the action and the concentration it takes for him to perform it dulls the pain, somehow. He gets to the steps; he’s sitting on the top steps with his legs still inside the gymnasium. Thankfully, the entrance is large enough that when he is turning around, he doesn’t need to bend his knee. He slides down the steps and tries not to shout whenever his knee jostles.

Crawling to the clubroom is less painful than climbing down the three stairs, and he is finally, _finally_ reunited with his phone. It wouldn’t normally be a question of whom to call, but his argument is still fresh on his mind, despite having spent the last thirty minutes in extreme distress. For a moment, he thinks about biting the bullet and calling Iwa-chan, anyway. He would probably run back here and take care of him in an instant because Iwa-chan is _good_ that way. He is kind and caring and loves all his friends. Hell, he’d probably do the same thing for a stranger.

But. It doesn’t change the fact that he was right, and Tooru did hurt himself, practicing too much until his legs gave out. Tooru doesn’t want to call him. He calls his dad instead.

Tooru intended to go home; rest his knee, maybe put some ice on it. His dad takes one look at his knee, lying at an angle which is not normal at all, and carries him to the car like he is seven years old again, falling from his window because he wanted to look at the stars. They don’t go home.

  


The hospital smells disgusting, as always, but that isn’t what makes Tooru feel sick. His doctor is telling him he can’t play volleyball for the next few months. Hell, he won’t be able to run properly for a good few weeks. Even when he plays again, he’ll have to wear a brace. If it gets worse, he’ll need to have surgery.

Tooru feels empty inside.

The drive home is silent, and Tooru is glad his dad didn’t bring his mother. She’d take one look at his face and know how ruined he feels.

When they get home, Tooru uses his crutches and goes to his room, telling his mom he won’t be eating dinner. He should probably talk to her about what happened, but he figures his dad will fill her in.

When he goes inside his room, Iwa-chan is sitting on his bed. Of course.

“Your dad texted me.”

He doesn’t sound angry, only resigned. Tooru doesn’t blame him. After his trip to the hospital, he’s forgotten their argument too. In the grand scheme of things, a petty quarrel with his best friend doesn’t matter as much as not being able to play in the Interhigh this year.

“You shouldn’t skip dinner.”

“Iwa-chan, are you my mom?”

Their banter feels normal, if a little somber. Of course, Iwa-chan wouldn’t rub being right in Tooru’s face. He’s so good, too good. Tooru feels like crying, and he doesn’t try to stop it. This is Iwa-chan, after all. He takes out his contacts and throws them into the bin, and uses the crutches to maneuver around the room and sit on the bed next to Iwa-chan, throwing the stupid sticks somewhere in the middle of the room.

“Idiot, how will you get up and walk if you can’t reach your crutches?”

“You’ll just have to stay with me and help me, then.”

“Lazykawa.”

The old nickname breaks something in him and rivers of tears roll down his cheeks. Sobs rack his body, and he lets his friend coax him into his arms, careful of his knee. Tooru buries his head in the juncture connecting Iwa-chan’s neck to his shoulder, taking deep breaths, letting the familiar smell of his cologne comfort him. Tooru wraps his hands around Iwa-chan, trying to bury himself deeper, hold closer, because maybe then, he can forget that he did this to himself. Strong hands wrap around his back, rubbing up and down his spine, and it makes him shiver. Iwa-chan’s cheek is resting on Tooru’s head, and Tooru wonders if he should feel self-conscious of his dirty, sweaty hair, but this is Iwa-chan. Tooru has slept on his chest and drooled on Iwa-chan’s favorite shirt.

Tooru eventually calms down enough to stop crying, but when he tries to unstick himself from Iwa-chan, his friend’s arms tighten around him, not letting go. Tooru doesn’t complain, burying his face back in Iwa-chan’s neck, and trying not to smile like an idiot.

Iwa-chan is the first to break the silence, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For leaving you to practice by yourself.” Tooru can’t see his face, but he can easily imagine the small crease nestling itself between Iwa-chan’s eyebrows.

“You know this wasn’t your fault, right? If anything, it was mine.”

“I know, I’m just. I’m sorry I said I didn’t care; I didn’t mean it. I care about you.”

“It’s okay, Iwa-chan. I didn’t believe you in the first place,” Tooru replies happily, letting the smile on his face grow.

And that’s that.

  


_iii._

Oikawa Tooru is twenty-five years old, and right now, he thinks, _‘where is Iwa-chan?’_

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Iwaizumi Hajime?”

“Iwaizumi-san is on lunch break. Do you have an appointment?”

“No, no. I’m a friend. Can you tell me where he is?” Tooru flashes his most charming smile, and he can tell the lady minding the front desk fell for it because her cheeks blush a light pink, and she returns an awkward smile of her own.

“No, but I can tell him you are waiting for him,” she offers.

“Great! Please, tell him Shittykawa is here to see him.”

Front-desk lady gives him a weird look before gesturing to another man in hospital form to take her place. She comes back a couple of minutes later, Iwa-chan in tow. He is trying to look angry and intimidating, but his frown is still too adorable for Tooru. Probably not just for Tooru because the front-desk lady is giving Iwa-chan a swooning look.

“Must you embarrass me in front of my colleagues?”

Tooru pouts. “But that’s what you always call me in public! I thought that was how you introduced me to everyone you know.”

Iwa-chan growls; _actually_ growls. Tooru takes a second to consider if he’s pushed it too far but shakes his head when he sees that Iwa-chan is clearly trying not to smile. “Come one, Iwa-chan! Change out of your dirty hospital clothes and let’s go.”

“I was about to have lunch, Shittykawa—”

“There it is!”

“—I swear to god; it’s my _second_ day working here.”

“And that’s why it’s important that you have a delicious celebratory lunch instead of the awful stuff they give you here,” Tooru explains happily, gesturing to Iwa-chan to go back. “Now, go change to your normal-but-not-less-ugly clothes, so we can go.”

Iwa-chan opens his mouth like he has something to say, but Tooru smiles at him from ear to ear and continues gesturing wildly for him to hurry up. He goes.

“You must be Oikawa-san,” the front-desk lady says, giving him a knowing look.

“Uh, yeah? That’s me. Oikawa Tooru.”

“Iwaizumi-san talks about you a lot. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Watanabe Jin.”

Tooru blinks once; twice. He was trying not to think about his plan for today, but front-desk lady’s words conjure butterflies in his stomach.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Jin-chan! From now on, you will need to pay attention to all the embarrassing things Iwa-chan does here to tell me later, okay?”

Tooru doesn’t know what Iwa-chan has told everyone, but it must’ve been accurate because Jin-chan is not one bit fazed about her nickname or his attitude. Iwa-chan reappears and grabs his wrist, dragging him away before Jin-chan can reply.

“Let’s go, Trashykawa.”

Iwa-chan takes them down the street for a few feet before he realizes that they don’t know where they are going. Tooru waves his confusion away, sliding his hand up and slipping his fingers between Iwa-chan’s. They are essentially holding hands, but Iwa-chan isn’t pulling away, and Tooru isn’t about to complain. It’s foreshadowing for his plan later, after all.

Tooru takes them to an izakaya they’ve never gone to together, but one that Tooru has visited for quality as insurance. They serve a good agedashi tofu, and they are not too crowded on a weekday during lunch.

They sit down and order quickly, Tooru feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as Iwa-chan orders agedashi tofu without even glancing down at the menu.

“Celebratory lunch, huh?” Iwa-chan says casually. He isn’t smiling, but Tooru can hear the grin in his voice. “Why did we do this yesterday then?”

“I was busy yesterday, Iwa-chan,” Tooru lies.

“No, you weren’t. The national team’s practice doesn’t start until next month, and you’ve been spending all your time watching alien conspiracy documentaries.”

Well, he’s not wrong. “They aren’t conspiracies if they are true, and how would you know, anyway?”

“Oikawa, I _live_ with you, and don’t change the subject.”

It’s not like Tooru expected his diversion to work, anyway. “I wanted you to make a good first impression on your first day, eating with your colleagues and all.”

“Are you finally accepting that you have a shitty personality?”

This is not going romantically at all. “You’re so mean, Iwa-chan!”

Their lunch arrives, serving as a nice distraction for a few minutes. Tooru stills himself, taking a deep breath and readying himself for what he’s about to do. He promised himself he would do it today. Mattsun and Makki _will_ kill him if he puts this off longer than he already has.

“Iwa-chan. I told myself I would tell you this when high school ended, then I put it off until university graduation. I said I’d tell you after I got on the national team, and even when that happened I chickened out, so I promised myself you starting to work at the hospital would finally be when I confessed to you. Hajime, I’m in love with you. Have been since forever, maybe. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but it wouldn’t be fair to you to hide this. It hasn’t been fair that I’ve hidden this as long as I have. I understand if you don’t want to live with me anymore, but please let us remain friends. You are really important to me.”

Tooru has known for months that this would be the day he would finally get this out, but he still feels his stomach drop. He doesn’t dare look up to see Iwa-chan’s expression. He can’t bear the thought of Iwa-chan being disgusted that Tooru has feelings for him. He knows that’s irrational. Iwa-chan is good; too good. He would never hurt Tooru like that.

“Shittykawa, you are such a dumbass.”

Iwa-chan certainly doesn’t _sound_ disgusted. He sounds normal, if a little fond and affectionate, using his favorite nicknames of Tooru. He sounds…happy.

Tooru opens his eyes; he hadn’t even realized that he’d closed them, looking up from his lap, from his hands twisting each other, to Iwa-chan’s face. Tooru is prepared to cringe at Iwa-chan’s expression and look down again, but it doesn’t happen. Iwa-chan has a giant fucking smile on his face; the kind of smile he gives when watching Godzilla movies; like the one he gave when they won against Karasuno that one time; like when he was accepted to study medicine. Tooru thought there was no way in hell that Iwa-chan would feel the same way, and he still doesn’t want to let blind hope take over his mind, but Iwa-chan grinning like a fool, not a hint of his usual frown between his eyebrows, is sure not helping at all.

“Iwa-chan?” he asks, and this time he does cringe because he sounds like he did when he was thirteen, voice breaking mid-word.

“I feel the same way, idiot.”

Iwa-chan is still smiling. Tooru distantly thinks this might be the longest time Iwa-chan has smiled continuously without Tooru doing something stupid to ruin it and make him frown. Or maybe it’s _because_ Tooru did something stupid; he isn’t sure yet.

Tooru isn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry, so he settles for smiling like a loon, but that’s okay because Iwa-chan is smiling like a loon, as well. He wishes they were sitting down on the same side of the table, so he could wrap his arms around Iwa-chan and put his head on his shoulder and kiss his neck.

That snaps him out of his thoughts because he can _do that now_. They both feel the same way; they are on the same page.

So Tooru gets up from his chair to go stand beside Iwa-chan, crouching a little, so that their heads are on the same level, and plants a big wet kiss on his neck, under his ear.

“What the hell, Assikawa,” Iwa-chan says, but it’s in his I’m-not-actually-annoyed-but-I-don’t-want-to-admit-it voice.

“Let’s get out of here, Iwa-chan.”

They quickly pay and run outside. The izakaya is on a small street away from where the afternoon crowds usually gather, and apart from the occasional car passing through, there’s no one else here. Tooru is still overwhelmed, trying to decide whether to hug Iwa-chan or kiss him, so he does both. He wraps his arms around Iwa-chan’s neck, resting their foreheads together. Iwa-chan is scowling, probably because he is once again reminded that Tooru is still taller than him and always will be. Tooru doesn’t mind. He separates them enough to kiss his forehead, then his nose, then his left cheek. He aims for Iwa-chan’s mouth next, but Iwa-chan must’ve had the same idea because he turns his head, and Tooru ends up kissing the corner of his lips instead. He doesn’t mind, letting the laugh bubbling inside of him get out, kissing Iwa-chan properly this time. It isn’t flawless; they’re both smiling too much, and there’s too much teeth, but Iwa-chan tastes like agedashi tofu and smells like his cologne, and to Tooru, there’s nothing more perfect.

“I’m so happy, Iwa-chan,” Tooru whispers, afraid of ruining the moment but needing to share his giddiness.

“We’re both idiots.”

“Is Iwa-chan finally admitting that he isn’t smart?”

“Shut up, Crappykawa.”

And that’s that.

  
  


_Lucky I'm in love with my best friend_  
_Lucky to have been where I have been_  
_Lucky to be coming home again_  
_I'm lucky we're in love in every way_  
_Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed_ _  
_ _Lucky to be coming home someday_

_“Lucky” - Jason Mraz feat. Colbie Caillat_

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! it really means a lot to me. my social media is in my profile, if you wanna talk. :’)
> 
> i’m planning an iwaoi multi-chapter post-canon fic, so you can keep an eye out for that. <3


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